During yesterday’s St. Patrick’s Day parade at the Aldershot Barracks, the Duchess of Cambridge got her high heel stuck in a grate. Husband William offered a supporting arm — and a giggle or two — while she freed her stiletto.

The soldier saluted.

Funny — almost the exact same thing happened to me during a business trip to Chicago!

I was walking with my colleagues to a nearby restaurant for dinner when a grate ate my heel. Two friends held me upright, saving me from an almost certain face plant. So, let me belatedly salute their heroics —

I get a lot down in very little time. Up and dressed. House cleaned. Dog walked and fed. And at my home office desk, ready to go, in record time.

But today, I stuttered a bit…

Was I wearing green?

It happens every St. Patrick’s Day. Childhood memories wash over me. The pinching, the ridicule, the reign of terror unleashed on anyone who forgot to wear green.

Of course, I’m one of the lucky ones.

I have green eyes.

That was always my fail-safe…my go-to if I per-chance forgot to wear a green article of clothing. My permanent salute to the Emerald Island that I could point to when the bullies came to twist my flesh.

Even today, I realize I’m wearing a black hoodie with gray jeans — nary a green stitch of clothing in sight. So if I pass you on the street, I will invoke the ‘green eyes rule.’